g been vacated not long since.
The door to the next room was standing ajar.

Joe stood and pondered. Just what should he ask Zeke? Should he tell
him what had happened? Zeke might probably have heard, if the news was
about. Standing there, waiting, there came to his ears a peculiar
sound, faint, high-pitched, and monotonous. He listened. Someone was
singing in the next room in a voice not much louder than a whisper.
Curious, he walked softly over to the door and peered through.

There in a tiny rocking chair sat a little figure rocking to and fro.
Its back was half turned toward him, but he could see a kinky head
which was bent over something held in its arms, which it was most
evidently lulling to sleep. The room was darkening, with only a single
patch of orange-coloured sunlight upon the bare floor. Back and forth
went the little body. He could see the bare feet with the stubby toes,
escaping as by miracle the ever-threatening rocker. There was a small
square of blue-calico-covered back, two little pigtails of hair
tightly tied with scraps of baby-blue ribbon, and--the voice. It was
as fine and high as wind blowing across a hair and with a curious,
lifting minor note. He listened.

First there would be a gentle hushing and then the refrain--the melody
was unappreciable and elusive, though constant:--

"Grasshopper set on sweet tater vine,
On sweet tater vine,
On sweet tater vine.
Big turkey gobbler come up behime
And nip him off that sweet tater vine."

With the word "nip" would come a crescendo, swelling to a sharp little
monosyllabic quaver, and then the whole thing would die away most
mournfully.

Twice he heard it sung through to the faint accompaniment of the tiny
screaking rocker. It was a very solemn abjuration against the
promiscuous sitting about of casual creatures. And oddly enough it
seemed to him in a way that something was speaking through that
feeble, quavering voice to him; that this was of the same parcel with
what had happened, was happening. He felt singularly tense--had not
the slightest desire to laugh. And as he watched, the orange patch on
the floor began to fade, until the room was bathed in shadow. And the
song came suddenly to an end and he heard a gentle little "Hush," and
then a sigh, and then silence. Slowly he backed away on tiptoe from
the door.

He had barely gained the security of the front room--somehow he felt
it as security--when he heard the gate scre